


Classical Peace

by WolfOfBakerStreet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female John Watson, Femlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfOfBakerStreet/pseuds/WolfOfBakerStreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeanette ((John Watson)) always remembers how she ended up with her classical background and her girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pachelbel's Cannon in D.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnamon_and_cardigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_and_cardigans/gifts).



Jeanette never disliked classical music. On the contrary she found it soothing at night. It kept away the nightmares from her time at war. Her like of this type of music started with Pachelbel’s Cannon in D. The first night she had heard that song she was completing a residency at a psychiatric ward which meant that she had to deal with addicts other than just the usual psychotics. On her first day in Paris’s most rebound asylum the head nurse gave her a warning.  
“If you are ever forced to deal with the patient in room 221 don’t fall for her charm. She could peel the snakes of their scales. Her name is Sherlock Holmes and she could be fitting for cocaine. Mycroft, her caretaker says she is a bit of a wild one for only twenty- one.” Jeanette wondered to herself what kind of life would lead to such an addiction so early on.  
Most of Jeanette’s day went smoothly as she cared for the people with anxiety and problems with self-mutilation. Sitting in on the group therapy sessions on the list she noticed one name did not have participation for any of her scheduled sessions and that was none other than the infamous Sherlock Holmes. As the evening continued to play and the cocaine group meeting grew closer to its time to start a code yellow was called as a cart covered in needles filled with your basic collection of sedatives was tossed against the opposite wall where they clattered to the floor as well as two burly “man handlers” as the patients had so kindly dubbed them. Standing in the doorway was who forensic medical science student Anderson called the freak.  
Watson had finally gotten her first look at the supposed dangerous sociopath. She looked like addiction had claimed her life. Brown black hair hung in disheveled curls down a pale white back. Scrub like uniform the same shade of green everyone was forced to wear were torn from her shoulders reviling a black A frame tank top and moonbeam white skin. The pants were far too large for her held up with a make shift belt of dental floss and a paperclip. ‘Both contraband’ the doctor in training noted as the girl seemed to create science in the common room.  
One patient leaned over and whispered in her ear as the doctor was caught by grey eyes that rivaled the storm outside. “Be careful Miss Jeanette.” She whispered in to the blonde woman’s ear. “The wolf is out without her leash, she’s in and out of here on a regular basis. Always after a large drug bust strung out so deliciously on anything that was in the drug house. She only ever stays for four months total than fakes wellness and leaves.”   
As Watson took in this information about the girl who was prowling towards her with a grain of salt. Hazel eyes watched the younger more slender patent and her short brown blonde hair helped to hide the intrigue in the woman who took down two men obviously bigger than herself. Snapping her head back as if in response to the woman’s thoughts the addict smiled a smug grin of satisfaction in attracting someone’s attention. Speaking through the smugness her voice was sinful and dark like a devil. “Systema a Russian martial art of low impact, originally taught to the Spetznaz now taught to anyone with any aptitude to become a Russian spy.”   
After speaking the younger girl pulled up an arm chair to the meeting circle and stole Jeanette’s water bottle and a cigarette from the doctor’s pocket. Lighting the paper tube and exhaling the intoxicating nicotine over the crowd of hopelessly unstable germaphobes. Jeanette made a mental note that the girl was a royal wanker. To be honest she never remembered meeting anyone quite as rude as Sherlock Holmes. Exhaling more smoke the people from her past session scrambled as the two orderlies slowly regained the consciousness that had been stolen by the woman who was now feigning attentiveness to the blonde woman who was slack jawed with astonishment at the cockiness the addict was oozing from every single pore of the composed seat she had taken.  
Suddenly the alarm began to ring and more bouncer like male nurses began to flood into the common room like a sea. Her movements where completely fluid full of grace that was in rivalry of someone who has had years of classical ballet training. Dodging about eight of the twenty guards before being wrestled into submission by six men at once.  
Kicking and screaming the pale woman was placed into a strait jacket before a syringe was slammed into the girl’s thigh. It was obvious to the doctor in training that the sedative was administered far more aggressively then was regulation. Jotting a note down the woman would be calling the girl in restraints emergency contact to report the scene. Despite the heavy dosage of mind numbing drugs she was still thrashing against the abusive man handling while they carried her in her custom jacket to a room with padded walls. Locking her in solitary was not what this patient needed. She needed a companion, a friend, and a distraction from the drab routine of day to day life in the French mad House.   
Swearing in French was all the solitary guard heard for several hours. When the duty shifted back to a new intern Jeanette Watson had drawn the lucky straw. Sitting by the edge of the steel door she could hear a soft humming. A feminine voice began to hum the violin part of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Slowly the song continued to play through Jeanette’s mind until she was allowed home at midnight. Even as the blonde walked toward the card locked door the girl in the cell was repeating everything from the violin section of the song. Absently Watson wondered if Sherlock would keep it up all night. Somehow he knew that the song would be playing in the guards head before he left.  
Tomorrow she would talk to Sherlock, trying to be friends with the sociopath. Little did the girl know that this brown haired wolf would affect her life forever. Sherlock knew this of course but Watson was yet to see her many skills. A devious smirk crossed the restrained girls face. As the song continued she closed her storm grey eyes and waited for the morning to arrive faster.  
~Fin Chapter One~


	2. Vivaldi's Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of the piece that I have been putting off for far too long.

Vivaldi’s Four Seasons –Winter  
When the sun rose over the streets of Paris Jeanette Watson continued on her way to the asylum. To her shock there was an elaborate looking town car outside. The driver’s face was the only thing visible through the extra tinting of the windows. As she approached the front desk to sign in a tall auburn haired gentleman was arguing with the front desk holding what appeared to be an expensive black steel violin case. His accent was extremely thick as he spoke. “So you’re telling me she is confined ninety percent of the time to a small room, no cell phone, no computer, no newspaper, and worse of all you will not allow her visitation with her primary caregiver or her violin. Instead you pump her full of sedatives to keep her compliant, force feed her, and use tranquilizers to force her to sleep. You could be murdering genius and your far to unintelligent to notice what your creating is not a sober Sherlock Holmes but a soulless shell of my little sister.” By the time the male had finished his tirade he was snarling. French curses of higher elegance left his mouth in a more rapid fire way than his younger sister.  
Jeanette spoke softly as the male looked like he was going to punch the male behind the desk. “They cannot take visitation away despite her violent outburst yesterday. I’ll take you to her room Mr. Holmes is it?”  
A short grunt of a response was what she got in return. Continuing to speak the young doctor walked forward. “I never knew Sherlock was musically inclined. It is good for addicts to have something to distract them. It also seems you view your sister as a bit of a genius. . .”  
Abruptly cut off by Mycroft’s snort the British man spoke. “Not a bit Sherly is extremely intelligent she has a natural aptitude to read people like books as well as anything that requires deductive skills she is a true master of the skill of deductive reasoning.”  
“Deductive reasoning?” Jeanette asked the concept was completely new to her and the walk was much longer than before. They had moved Sherlock to a room in the wing where they kept the truly insane patients. It was down a long corridor on the west wing of the institution. Marble pillars lined each wall and dreary paintings of basic landscapes hung in tarnished gold frames. Most of the people behind the metal gate that separated the dangerous ones from the regular patients had been forgotten by the people who placed them here in the first place.  
Jeanette had never been in this wing before but the way the paint was chipping off the walls behind this barricade of chipped metal disturbed her. Sherlock didn’t belong here anyone could see that it was just something they did because the staff was tired of her outbursts. Mycroft was obviously upset about it as well. “Is this how you treat your patients doctor? This is horrid I will be calling your supervisor and his supervisor.” As Mycroft went off on his rants Sherlock slammed her head against the wall beside the gate.  
“Mycroft SHUT UP!” Sherlock cursed as she smiled at the doctor, her eyes were sunken in from the high doses of drugs that they had forced her to take to keep her relaxed and easier to deal with. Despite the strong dosage she was able to walk around and talk was absolutely outstanding. The lack of verbal coherence from the brunette was upsetting to the male who Jeanette now knew as Mycroft Holmes.  
“WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU?!” Mycroft cursed as he rushed over to embrace the former addict. “I should have just sent you to a regular rehabilitation center, or bought you your own flat and hired someone to check up on you and search the place for drugs.” There was obvious regret in the males voice as Sherlock staggered over to Jeanette.  
“Greetings doctor Watson.” Her voice was as full of sin as before but the smile was more broken than before, more dazed and drugged. “Mycroft if I ever left this place it would be with a personal caregiver like doctor Watson here. In fact I will not leave without her coming with me. I will keep acting up just to spend some time with her.” This behavior was unusual for Sherlock, the addict never had any friends before or any interest in any person in a type of friend. Jeanette couldn’t help but smile at the comment it proved that the brunette was looking for someone to talk to a companion to keep her sober enough to make something out of her life.  
As Jeanette left Mycroft and Sherlock to visit she started jotting down some notes on the horrid conditions of the west wing. Something would have to be done by the staff to fix this area and make it livable. Meanwhile in the room that was more like a cell Sherlock sat on the bed leaving her older brother the only chair in the tiny tight place. “I don’t know why Mycroft but there is something about that woman, I can tell you what I know about her already. She is a bleeding heart, here for the plight of rights of psychiatric patients. A doctor in training she is considering the military to finish her degree but I don’t know why she would. Jeanette Watson will be twenty four soon making her three years older than me. “ As Sherlock continued to speak she adjusted on her feet looking over at the violin. “You brought me my violin again? Do you think it will keep me clean?” Before the male even answered she opened up the case.  
Inside the purple lined case was a beautiful brown violin. The nice finish was missing any types of damage or anything that would effect the playing of the instrument. Slowly Sherlock ran her slender fingers across the wood finish before she picked it up and started to tune the instrument. Clear clean notes came from the soft strumming of the strings before she tightened the bow and pulled it across the strings. Sweet music began to flow the second the violin was in her hands again. Something about picking it up was enough to set her back to the years before the drugs.  
When Mycroft was ready to leave he called Jeanette over to the gate to let him out sweet music still flowing from the room. As the elder Holmes led himself out Jeanette peeked into the room where Sherlock was playing. Standing by the window the brunette had her beautiful eyes closed while she played different little things to warm up slender fingers before Jeanette knocked on the door frame. Startled Sherlock turned back to look at the girl who had knocked. “Come in come in Jeanette I’ll play you something.”  
Carefully the blonde stepped into the small room and took a seat in the small chair. “Tell me Jeanette, what do you know about classical music?” When the doctor responded with her small amount of knowledge Sherlock smiled. “How about this? No matter what room I am put in you come to visit me and I will play you a new song and teach you about it.” Jeanette nodded and Sherlock smiled. “Wunderball.” The brunette responded in German before she started to speak. “This is one of my favorites Jeanette, Written by Antonio Vivaldi it is part of his four seasons song. My favorite part is Winter.” After finishing her little speech she pulled the bow across the strings and the music began to play.  
Closing her eyes Jeanette listened she let it take over her, knowing that she was supposed to keep her distance she just couldn’t with this girl. Sherlock was far too beautiful and all in all brilliant to be ignored for long and it would be good for both of them. Sweetly she wrote on her list that Sherlock would have personal daily counseling with her. Little did Jeanette know that it was the first step toward a life that would be destroyed if the girl vanished. Winter danced behind her eyes snowflakes made of the notes danced behind her closed eyes. When the song finally finished Jeanette knew, Sherlock would be the best friend she could ever want, and the only friend she would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it comes off really bad this one is unedited.


	3. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed and the girls are still friends. Though they miss each other it seems fate wont keep them apart for long.

Chapter Three  
Nocturne in C Sharp Minor for Violin and Piano– Chopin   
~Three years after previous /Chapter/~  
Time allows one to miss those that mean the most to them. Since her release two years ago the youngest Holmes sibling was living on Baker Street in a flat that was really built for two. Sherlock had been writing letters to Watson since she was sent to Afghanistan almost two years ago. The doctor had finished her internship after another three months with the infamous brunette and joined the army to use her new medical degree to assist those injured while on a tour of duty. However it seemed that fate would not have the two companions separated from each other for long.   
Two years had passed since she had left London to treat the wounded on the battlefield. War was nothing like they made it look on the brochures and flyers in the recruitment offices. Watson had seen things she would never be able to unsee, bloody corpses of people she had seen in the mess that morning, laying there cold and lifeless. Blood from the wounded and dead had turned the golden sand into thick crimson mud with grit that would stick to the boots of those trying to bury the mounting dead that arrived each evening. Many of the men she worked with would talk about how letters from their wives, children, parents, or girlfriends would help them in dealing with the traumas of war. For Jeanette the escape came in the form of letters lightly scented with expensive French perfume.  
The envelopes themselves where not sprayed with the liquid like some lover would but had caught the scent from sitting on the desk in the girls room, or so the doctor could only assume. Cursive that looked more like calligraphy than handwriting covered the front of the envelope detailing Watson’s position, platoon, and her name and rank. Sherlock was always thorough in addressing these letters knowing that the blonde would have to get them and no one would ever say otherwise. There had been a short stint in which they were withholding the letters but after Mycroft got involved the problem was quickly over and all letters that were being held back from Watson were returned that very day.   
What was inside the letter was even more important to the doctor, each letter told Jeanette what was going on at home in London, how Sherlock was doing with her outpatient programs as Jeanette was still listed as her primary physician, and about her daily life. The blonde would keep letters on her for particularly rough days. When one of her few friends from the medical tent was blown away by a land mine the only thing that soothed her was the letter in which Sherlock spoke of, in detail, why she refused to pick up her own shopping and would call her brother with a list and make him bring it to the flat.   
Despite the struggles of the war things were not easy for Sherlock on the home front. Her brother had put her up in a flat far too large for her to live in on her own, given her a set budget for shopping each month because Sherlock’s cases were barely high profile enough to cover the rent for the flat in which she was currently residing. After getting over her drug addiction she had shoved her nose so far into her work that she would often forget to eat or sleep for long periods of time. Mycroft was concerned at first so much that he even first put it down to depression over Jeanette leaving for the war. As time moved on however, Mycroft had learned that his sister would probably always eat this way paying more attention to her job than to her own health.   
She would only tell Watson the good things, or things that she found funny about herself. Sherlock knew what a war could do to someone like Jeanette. She would have nightmares about the blonde coming home and not being the same person because each letter had not helped in the slightest. Sherlock would write poems, quotes, anything that would keep the blonde’s mind away from the job that she had to do. The most recent letter from Watson had the same spark to it that she remembered when she had first met the resident doctor in Paris.   
Each word had been carefully chosen as if the blonde was afraid that she was dealing with a mastermind that would think less of her if they were not phrased correctly. It often made Sherlock smile when she would read the letters the blonde sent from the front. Something about hearing from the army doctor made it easier to turn away the needle from day to day. Shaking her head when she read a particularly friendly and concerned passage about her eating Sherlock called her older brother.   
“Mycroft, hello.” She said simply before heading back to look over the letter and place it in the lock box hidden behind the books on the left bookcase with all the others. Every letter Jeanette had ever written was kept safe from harm with the long haired brunette’s birth certificate and social security card.   
“Hello Sherlock, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure my darling sister? “ The ginger haired male said before he walked across the room of his estate looking for a particular tie for a meeting in the morning that he would be sitting in on. Something about national security or the like. Mycroft did love his little sister but he had always worried about the woman ever since her addiction became something that she couldn’t handle without professional help. Now that she was clean from all of the illegal substances it was her eating and sleeping habits that had the older male worried about her more often than not.   
“I was wondering if you wanted to go get dinner or something.” A half finished letter for Watson rested on her desk as she looked for appropriate clothes to wear for a dinner with Mycroft. The male loved rich food and had so many habits of going to places that normally required at least semi formal attire to come in. Digging for the soft blue dress in her closet the brunette gently adjusted her hair so that it was laying down her back in long flowing ringlets. Sherlock had absolutely beautiful hair that seemed to shine like brown black silk and sparkled as it danced over beautiful shoulders. “There is a new Italian place that just opened up in Kensington and I have not seen you in quite some time my darling brother.”   
“Of course of course shall I come pick you up?” Mycroft had found the behavior strange considering Sherlock hardly ever ate yet alone asked to go for a meal with him. Giving his hunt for the tie up he started to get ready to enjoy a quiet meal with his younger sister. They hardly had anything in common but they would often talk about little things like work or books when they did talk at all.   
“I will meet you there in a half an hour is that alright?” She asked as he sprayed on a small amount of perfume before she started to put on simple makeup. Slowly she looked over herself and deciding that she looked formal enough and began her walk to the easiest location to hail a cab in the city.   
Sherlock had decided that asking about renting out the extra bed room might go smoother than bringing it up another way. Something about the way they had been raised made meals much more sociable between the two siblings. Though there was always constant bickering Sherlock knew that her older brother only had her best interests at heart and that the meal would make the conversation a lot more civilized. After receiving her brother’s agreement to meeting Sherlock smiled and headed off towards the restaurant to meet with Mycroft.

When she arrived at the place she got a table knowing that Mycroft was definitely always late. Taking a seat she ordered a nice bottle of wine for the two of them and started to look over the menu trying to think of how to break the news, and attempting to process and predict how the meal and conversation would go. Something told the rather young brunette that it would start with somewhat cold remarks and half meant complements that never really were there for more reason than to be polite. Following that there would be a slight silence while they were trying to figure out what they were going to eat. After the period of silence Sherlock would bring up renting the room while they waited for the food to come. The intelligent brunette knew that this was the best time to break the question and perhaps if it took longer than normal talk about upping her allowance so that she could go out. 

As soon as the auburn haired male entered Sherlock waved him over so the conversation could begin. Once the greetings were out of the way the brunette leaned forward and smiled at her brother. “So Mycroft tell me something? What would you think of me renting out the spare room upstairs? The flat is far too large for me to be in by myself.” Waiting for Mycroft’s response the slender brunette leaned back in the booth and slowly nibbled on the garlic bread that was left on the table by the waiter. Popping the cork on the wine she slowly poured her brother a glass but left her own empty deciding that it would be best if she waited for dinner to arrive.   
When dinner finally arrived Mycroft looked over at the brunette and sighed knowing he had still not answered her question. “Fine Sherlock, I’ll allow you to rent out the upper bedroom but the person may not have a drug problem. They must also have a spotless background I will be checking up on you not directly as you are an adult but your flat mate when you find one will be watched.” Sherlock smiled and looked over at her brother. Something about the way he judged her choice of people was slightly aggravating but there was another feeling of pride that she had gotten well enough that he trusted her to pick out a flat mate. As the meal continued Sherlock spoke about how she would go about it.   
“I don’t plan to just pull a random stranger out from off of the street.” Slowly she began to twirl the pasta she ordered over her fork thinking how to phrase the next statement. “I would also like the money to go out. Have a drink you know every once and a while.” Once again it was a waiting game as she slowly slid the bite of pasta into her mouth.   
“I suppose a little bit more money wouldn’t hurt.” Mycroft said quickly than began eating himself. Both siblings were always silent when it came to meals. It was like dining with someone who you have no connection with. Anyone at the restaurant would think the two of them were waiting for the right opportunity to slit the others throat.   
The rest of dinner was spent speaking of their parents and a lovely conversation about Mycroft’s newest assistant. Sherlock would swear that the male went through possibly three a week but hoped that this one would stay. Mycroft in Sherlock’s opinion could use a friend as it was and maybe this new assistant would keep him more company than the last one.   
Once the meal was finished both siblings got up. Smiling Mycroft spoke to his younger sister. “Now Sherlock if you need anything please do call again. I have a meeting to get to and I can not be late. Be safe getting home and good luck finding a flat mate.” As it was Sherlock had no idea who she would ask to be her flat mate and though she loved the place that she was in there was no way that she would be able to do it much longer. Seemingly though luck had already had it’s hand in this adventure.  
With the new money Mycroft had given her to go out tonight Sherlock slowly moved to her room to get dressed. It would be a few more hours until any of the clubs that she was interested in would open their doors. Changing into a tight fitting pair of jeans and a dark purple tank top with a few purple and black gems on it she moved to style her hair in the mirror. Pulling the curls back a bit she placed a floral purple clip with glitter on it in her hair and smiled at herself in the mirror. It was surprising how much charm this woman could have when she wanted to. Sitting on her chair Sherlock picked up her phone, set an alarm to the time that she would need, checked the account to make sure that her brother had transferred the funds that she had requested, and began to read.   
In no time at all it was dark and time for the detective to leave. Grabbing her jacket and scarf she quickly went down the stairs two at a time until finally she was at the bottom and out the door. A gust of chilly London air washed over her and she pulled the thick material of her coat tighter around her slender frame. Green-blue-grey eyes scanned the road in front of the flat for a cab and when she spotted one she raised her arm to get the drivers attention. Quickly the male pulled up to the curb and smiled as the young woman got inside the back. Handing over the money so she could smoke she kept her eyes on the window. When the driver asked where to Sherlock turned her head to make eye contact. “The Velvet Room please.” She asked softly before waiting for the male to start driving.  
The whole ride took about fifteen minutes at most and the woman tipped well before sliding out of the cab and walking up to the door. Showing her ID to the doorman Sherlock slipped inside the club. Rainbow LED lights hung from the ceiling and lined the edges of the bar and tables. Stairs lead up to the second floor which had another bar and a more down to earth feel and the bottom floor had a formal seating area and was where the karaoke was held. Smiling softly she walked over to the bar and ordered herself a soft fruity drink to keep from drinking too much too quickly. It was when she was walking back to the table that it happened.   
Sherlock not paying any attention bumped into a blonde with a bob cut of hair. “I’m terribly sorry.” She muttered shyly happy that she had at least managed not to spill her drink on the shorter woman before her. The girl was wearing a light blue dress more like a sky blue that hung to her knees like a sun dress. It was when the woman turned around that Sherlock realized who it was that she had bumped into. Fresh off of the front and with a slight limp and a sling on her left arm was Jeanette Helena Watson.   
“Sherlock?” The woman asked her eyes on the taller brunette that she hadn’t seen in person in two years. Though she was still pale, way too thin, and had circles around those captivating eyes she still looked much healthier than she had when they had first met in the hospital two years ago. “Come come sit at my table we have so much catching up to do, I never saw you as the club type.” Jeanette continued on talking the brunette still shocked to see her best friend. Sitting down across from her Sherlock just smiled.  
“Yes Jeanette, Yes we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long I feel so bad I should be posting chapter four tonight as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope the first chapter went well. I was a little less ill when writing this one.


End file.
